Piece Of Marco
by moriarty's-tardis
Summary: Jean's POV of the funeral scene. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS! Rated M for mentions of violence and dark themes. JeanMarco centered. AOT. SNK. Jean/Marco


**A/N: This is my first AOT/SNK fanfic! i just started the show a few days ago and I LOVE it. JeanMarco is my OTP from that show ****and**** they are one of the best cases of "star crossed lovers" I've seen in a while. (Meaning the odds given to them by the universe are not, in any way, in their favor.)**

**WARNING: SADNESS LEVEL TEN! CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS (IF YOU ARE NOT PAST EPISODE 16)! DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE AND DARK THEMES. **

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING! G!**

**Here is the funeral scene from Jean's POV! **

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The crackling fire lit up the night. Shooting embers replaced the need for shooting stars as we all stared at the burning corpses of our dead. This funeral is small but every day is a funeral for those who have loved and lost the fallen. Their grieving is why we don't need this ceremony to carry on longer then what is respectful.

My allies~ those who have survived numerous battles along side me, those who I may even go as far as to call my friends~ sob beside me, staring into the burning fire. Some are muffling their cries, knowing that their tears will do nothing to bring the dead back to life, and others allow their emotions to release, knowing that letting their tears fall will help them get through this hard time without the pressure twisting in their gut.

I do not know where I stand. I feel the heat of tears pricking the back of my eyes but I hesitate to let them fall. I stare down at the ground for a moment to see some charred pieces of bone that had been spit out of the fire. It was as if the ignited bodies were taunting me, giving me fragments of remains to spur on my pain.

I step forward, thinking of why we all must fight the titans, and fall to my knees. I am a soldier whom is to be shown the utmost respect, yet I take a knee to the dead who shall not even receive burial. One of these brave men and women is Marco. We hadn't always been the closest of friends, yet he has always shown me kindness. I know I am a bit harsh and cold sometimes, but, looking back, I remember him only in warmth and affection.

He had such a large impact on my life, even though it was only a mere two days ago when he said it. We were in a crumbling building with only a loose plan that had many faults, and very few weapons. I was to lead these soldiers to their deaths and I almost gave in to the pressure. I was so close to throwing it all away. Then he told me that I was meant to be a leader. I was taken aback but he insisted that I was truly fit to lead them and that he trusted me.

There were several other occasions when he would flash me a smile and insist that I saved them all. His gratitude somehow made me realize the point of why we are doing this. We aren't killing titans purely out of hatred or bloodlust. If we are then that would make us no better then the titans ourselves. We do this to protect the people we love. We fight for those who cannot defend themselves against the attacks imposed on humanity. He reminded me of the real purpose behind our war with these ungodly beings.

I reach forward and grasp a piece of the singed bone and stare into the flames.

"Marco." I begin, speaking low enough that my friends cannot hear me. "I can't tell which are your bones anymore."

I think back to the moment I found his body. Half of it was gone and replaced by blood seeping from the gaping hole. The skin of his face was mostly torn off and his mouth was made to look like a permanent grimace. How horrible of the universe to leave me with that image instead of his encouraging smile.

"If I hadn't become a soldier," I continue, "I wouldn't have to worry about who would be next. Sure, I realized that we have to keep fighting, but not everyone can become a fool who rushes to his death like you." I don't know why but saying this feels better then leaving this unsaid.

I am about to continue but stop when I hear the unmistakable sound of Marco's boots walking towards me. I look up, unable to fathom what I am seeing. I see him. Standing over me with his usual smile and glowing eyes that remind me that even after all those soldiers who have died in my name, this one still believes in me. He is radiant and I know he is just an image in the fire but I cannot look away.

I do not wish to look away.

Then he speaks to me in a soft voice, with words laced in optimism, like they always are~ even in times of great catastrophe.

"I want you to listen to me without getting angry." He says.

I stare at him, trying to comprehend this impossible sight.

"You are not strong, Jean, that is why you understand how the weak feel; and you're adept to addressing a situation, so you know exactly what has to be done at any given time."

I understand what he is implying. He is telling me what I would have ignored if anyone else, including myself, would have told me. He had always believed in me, and now I am too scared to join the Scout Regiment. He is telling me that I can do it. He is persuading me in that hopeful voice that could convince winter to become spring.

I hate him suddenly, for telling me these things. My eyes narrow and I'm shaking. I needed him when he was alive just as much as he claimed to have needed me. He always told me what others dared not to say. He was the only one who truly believed in me.

And I loved him for it. For being the voice of reason and positivity. For being a loyal friend. For being the only one who was not driven away by my negative outlook on life and cruel attitude.

I crush the bone in my hand. I feel pieces of it splinter and break, but I just hold on tighter.

I stand up and stare into the fire, Marco's image now faded to smoke.

"What should I do now?" I ask, seeking guidance, though I know the answer already and fear it with every fiber of my being.

I do not face my friends, but I address them.

"Hey, you guys."

They look up, startled. I finally face them and take in their tear stained faces one by one. I feel my emotions tearing me apart, unraveling me in front of them and I will myself to stay together just a minute longer.

"Have you decided what corps your going to join? I've made my decision."

I'm shaking so much now. My eyes are focused on the crumbling remains of what may have been my best friend. I barely see Connie out of the corner of my vision. He had beem in a curled up position, weeping for the fallen. He uncoils at my words, intrigued and possibly terrified. I have a sinking feeling that he knows. I think everyone else knows too. But no one says anything. It has to be _my_ decision.

"I'm... I'm... Joining the Scout Regiment!"

I can no longer hear my friends over the sounds of my sobs. I choose death over self preservation. I have to do this for Marco. He believed in me and he died in the most horrible way imaginable. Saying this aloud has made it certain. I was going to do this.

And I'm terrified.

I don't think I'm ever going to let go of my tiny piece of Marco. The only piece of him I have left. I clutch the bone and ash tighter in my palm as my tears dampen the ground in front of me.

My fate has been decided. I shall die a hero's death. I am terrified but I shall not turn back. Maybe Marco is waiting for me on the other side with his kind words and easy smile

I have a destiny, I decide, and it is to join Marco in the afterlife, after taking down as many titans as I am capable of defeating.

_I will win this battle for him._

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**REVIEW! Let me know if I should write more JeanMarco stuff! **

**Thanks! :)**


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